


Dreaming of a Better Time

by Owlwithafringe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dream Sequence, Driving Lessons, Episode Tag, Episode: s11e04 Baby, Gen, John Winchester Actually Being A Good Parent, Missing Scene, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5198378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlwithafringe/pseuds/Owlwithafringe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I dream about Dad all the time. </i>
</p><p>  <i>We are in the car, I'm sitting in the driver's seat. Dad's sitting shotgun. But there aren't any shotguns. There's no monsters, there's no hunting.. there's none of that. It's just, he's teaching me how to drive and.. I'm not little like I was when he actually taught me how to drive. I'm sixteen and he's helping me get my learner's permit. Of course, you're in the backseat begging to take a turn and we pull up to the house.. the family house. And I park in the drive-way, he looks over and he says, "Perfect landing, son."</i></p><p>  <i>I have that dream every couple of months. It's kinda comforting actually."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming of a Better Time

Dean blinked.

The wheel of the Impala was held steady between his hands and an empty road stretched out before him.

“Good job Dean – now shift her into the next gear.”

Dean recognised the voice talking next to him. It was a voice that shouldn’t have been there, the voice of a dead man. He could feel the blood drain from his face as he swallowed and turned slowly to the passenger seat, to look at the man who couldn’t possibly be there.

“Dad?”

John Winchester, broad as day was sat shot gun watching Dean with a raised eyebrow. He was the same as the last time he’d seen him. Perhaps a little younger and without the hard glint that had followed him around for so long.

“What’re you staring at me for boy?” John barked. Now that was familiar. Dean shook himself out of his stupor. Of course his Dad was there. He was teaching him to drive. “Eyes on the road.”

Dean’s eyes snapped back to the road. “Yes sir.” He shifted to the correct gear before his Dad felt he had to repeat himself.

Dean however felt giddy as he peered at his Dad from the corner of his eye. He glanced at the rear-view mirror. His own face looked back at him, however something seemed a little different. His face was smooth and clear, young with vibrant green eyes that enticed so many girls. For some reason he almost expected to see something else looking back at him; stubble, grim determination and a hardened expression.

Sam stirred in the backseat, drawing Dean’s attention. Little Sammy, with his shaggy hair and gangly limbs that just screamed that he was going to shoot up by miles when he hit puberty.

He chucked down the book he had been reading silently, onto the empty backseat and leaned forward to rest in between the space by the front seats.

“Can I have a go?” He asked.

Dean chuckled and turned his attention back to the road, miscellaneous countryside passing by them. “No way short stack. Your feet wouldn’t even touch the pedals.”

Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean, blowing a raspberry noise and all. “I’m not that small, jerk.” He turned to their Dad, his voice taking on the whining quality he used to get what he wanted. “Please Dad? C’mon, please? I’m not a kid anymore, I’ll be sixteen soon.”

John half turned in his seat and ruffled Sam’s hair, much to Sam’s disgruntlement if the pinched up expression on his face was anything to go by.

“Sorry son, but Dean’s right. Maybe in a few years. You just focus on your grades for now and before you know it, your learners permit will have come in the post.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “But Daaad.. It’s not my fault I’m not old like you are.”

John raised his eyebrows disbelievingly and grinned. “Who’re you calling old, you little brat?”

“You! You’re like.. forty! Practically ancient.” Sam proclaimed with a mischievous smile. “Besides,” he argued, “you can hardly hold me accountable for my age. I didn’t ask to be twelve.”

“’Hold me accountable’?” John echoed slowly, “Starting to brush up on all that fancy ass lawyer language already?”

Sam smiled again, though this time it was shyer, more modest. “Doesn’t hurt to start now.”

John watched his younger son with something akin to pride, his whole face relaxed into an easy, soft smile, taking years off his face. He spoke gently, almost to himself. “My boy.. a lawyer.” He seemed to shake himself out of whatever sentimental trance he was in, before leaning closer to Sam, almost conspiratorially. “Tell you what: I won’t teach you to drive until you’re a bit older but next time I fix up the engine you could help me.”

Sam perked up, hope evident on his face though he clearly tried to hide it and act cool. “Really?”

“Sure,” John nodded, “Call it father-son bonding or some crap.”

Sam grinned and leaned back in his seat, muttering to himself, obviously content with the compromise. “Awesome.”

John turned back into his seat with a satisfied smile on his face. He suddenly straightened as if he remembered what they were doing and turned to Dean.

“Dean, you need to-“

Dean smoothly shifted gear.

“-change gear.” John finished uselessly. He studied Dean with an appraising look. “We’ll make a driver out of you yet. Might even pass the test first go.”

Dean felt himself practically glow at the praise. He could feel himself grinning. Life was good. He was getting the hang of driving, his Dad was by his side, Sammy had a great future ahead of him, and the Impala was purring along the open road as classic rock tunes played softly in the background. He was content.

Dean blinked.

The dark roof of the Impala stared down at Dean as he stared at it. The interior of the Impala was silhouetted by the dim light of the streetlights outside and rain lightly tapped against the bodywork creating a metallic drumbeat. Sam gently snored from the back seat. 

Dean sat up, his whole body creaking and protesting from being stuck in a cramped position for so long. He was getting to damn old now to be sleeping on the front seat like he used to do. 

The tide of wakefulness chased away Dean’s sleep but the clarity of the dream remained. He hadn’t had it in a few months so he was probably overdue to have it. He didn’t manage to get to the end this time though, waking up before Dean drove them all home.

 _Home._ With their Dad, and a house, and a future. No monsters. 

Dean felt himself smile without any humor. Sure, it was a sad dream, reminding him of what he could never have but it was still comforting to have it anyway: to get to see his Dad again, happy and spending time with him and Sam. Promises of time together rather than harsh words and slammed doors. 

Even a small glimpse of happiness being snatched from him after a dream was worth the reality that he actually lived. It was easier to think if his father as loving, as Sam as a kid with the whole world at his feet. 

Dean glimpsed at Sam in the rear view mirror, a parallel of the dream. He was still sleeping peacefully. Dean smiled fondly at him. He switched on the stereo and the song that was playing in the dream began crooning softly to Dean, tempting him back to sleep.

Dean leaned his head back against the seat headrest and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> We all knew this scene needed writing.
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos and comments, feedback is always appreciated and motivates me to write more! Come and find me on Tumblr at **[Owlwithafringe](http://owlwithafringe.tumblr.com/)** , to see updates on fics or to leave me a prompt.


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